And So, The Clock Struck Twelve
by In The Shadows I Dwell
Summary: There are six hours, three-hundred and sixty minutes, twenty-one thousand and six hundred seconds until the clock strikes midnight and Hermione Granger's life is about to change.
1. Six O'Clock

And So, The Clock Struck Twelve

_Six O'Clock _

* * *

New Years Eve: 6.00pm

_Hermione Granger_

* * *

"This is a ridiculous idea, how could you even suggest I would wish to be in attendance of such a ridiculous event, let alone accept the notion of such a horrific idea?" Hermione Granger scoffed loudly. "A New Years Eve party?"

"It's perfectly normal, Hermione." Harry Potter replied casually, as he always did.

"Ginny would love for you to attend. You know how excited she is about this."

"I'm aware of that Harry," Hermione replied hesitantly. "However I have much work to see to at the office, there are several meetings for me to attend in the morning, I just do not have the time to waste at a party I'm afraid."

"It's a party, Hermione. When has that ever been a waste?" He asked.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the pair, the last party the pair had been in attendance of was Hermione and Ron's wedding, that had not ended well at all. In fact Ron had the audacity to leave her standing at the altar – _alone. _She had been heartbroken upon hearing the news that he could not bring himself to marry her, let alone continue in a relationship with her, this information of course had come from Harry who on behalf of his best friend was asked to pass this message along. She could still, to this day barely look him in the eyes, knowing he had been the bear of such horrible news.

Hermione had been left entirely alone on her wedding day sobbing at the altar while all hell broke loose around her, the guests unsure of how to precede, Ron's mother screaming at him outside the small church to "do the right thing." It had been the last party she had ever planned to be in attendance of, she could not handle that heartbreak again, she could not even come to look at the man she once called her best friend. It had broken her inside; leaving a ripped torn and bloody wound that reopened each and every night upon walking into the apartment they had shared for the better part of four years. An apartment he had long left, his presence almost lingering, small reminders of the life they had shared still remaining.

She would find herself staring at the broken television, her attempt at introducing Ron to some form of Muggle life; however it had lasted not even the better half of ten minutes. She found herself staring at the empty balcony which overlooked the busy and bustling Diagon Alley, the roses long wilted and dying. She could not bare to walk upon it's surface any longer, it only reminded her of the place in which he had proposed to her two New Years Eve's ago. She had long removed the paintings from the walls, the photos in their frames now replaced with photos of her travels with Harry and Ron, most of the photos favouring an angle in which Ron was behind the camera. Some would say that there was barely a single item in the apartment that could remind anyone of Ron.

However, according to Hermione Granger they were wrong. If you looked carefully, you would notice small items that lay scattered about the house, books upon the vast bookshelves that were once his. Two copies of nearly every textbook that Hermione and Ron combined had used during their schooling. There were also several books upon the shelves containing "interesting" trivia and statistics based upon the Chudley Cannons. His favourite Quidditch Team. There were still items of clothes that lay at the back of the large wardrobe that had once been his, that in his haste to leave that evening he had left behind, abandoning, in an effort to avoid Hermione. Yet even after almost a year and a half these items remained.

Part of her was still attached to these items, part of her could not let go of the life she thought she would live and had lived. She still found herself silently sobbing to herself as she lay awake in the early hours of the morning, entirely alone in the large bed that had once been _theirs. _"_Theirs" _was a concept almost foreign to her now, everything they had once shared was now hers, even the items he had carelessly abandoned leaving behind as though he did not require them in his new life. A life that consisted primarily of the company of Lavender Brown. He had moved on, she had been left behind. Unable to let go of the life she would give anything to have once again. The life that she could never forget or allow to slip away, yet somehow, for some reason that had never been explained to her, it had.

Life was not fair; Hermione had learnt this the hard way. They were in fact the words Ronald Weasley had the boldness to tell her one evening in which she ran into him in the elevator at the Ministry. Of course they were not entirely alone, and of course their outburst had been witnessed by many others including the Assistant to the Minister of Magic whose sole job seemed to consist of eavesdropping. Needless to say it was a very uncomfortable elevator ride to the fifth floor once the screaming was over, the tears cascading helplessly down her cheeks as she struggled to compose herself before a meeting with the last person in the world she wished to be meeting in a state such as _that _– Draco Malfoy.

Throughout the meeting he stared at her, as though he had never seen someone crying before in his life. His grey-blue eyes staring into hers, as though they could see into her very soul, giving meaning to the saying that one's eyes are the window to their soul. After making it through several pages of the proposed changes in the Muggle Protection Act she was forced to excuse herself, before her silent tears became heaving sobs. He too knew of the situation she was in, in fact he was present at the wedding. Most of their year level at Hogwarts had been, aside from several of the ex-Slytherin students who had found themselves in legal trouble shortly after leaving school, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson all of whom had been caught attempting to bring about the third wizarding world war. Of course their attempts had been foiled easily, none of the three or any of their accomplices being intelligent enough to realise that they were each being followed.

Draco, surprisingly had not defended his once friends. In fact his role within the Ministry was to preside over many of the hearings, often arguing on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, some would almost say in the Muggle world his job lay somewhere between a lawyer and a district attorney. However, he shared this role with several others, yet his opinion had become highly sought after and respected. Despite his faults he had become a respected member of the public once again, he and his Father had not spoken in years, a fact that was well known by anyone who read the Daily Prophet, their latest falling out involving Draco's sentencing of his former friends, which his father deemed too soft. Hermione often wondered what it would be like living in such a situation. Despite the troubles in her life her parents still remained as major part of her life as ever.

Harry had also become the only person outside of work that she ever took the time to see. Most of the time this contact involved being forced into attending a horrendously cooked meal with Ginny, Harry and their son James who managed to throw most of the food about the room rather than eating it. He was nearing his second birthday; Ginny was pregnant with their second child and was due rather soon. She was positively convinced that she would be having a girl, who if she did they would name Lily Luna Potter. Hermione had heard this several times over during these dinners, however Teddy never seemed to grow tired of them, in fact he saw Harry, Ginny and James as family, eating dinner with them most nights. Andromeda Tonks allowed her grandson to do so, allowing him to get to know the man who had been appointed his godfather.

Teddy was already six years old, he had definitely taken after his mother, preferring to keep his hair blue most of the time. But when it was not it was a mousy brown, similar to that of his fathers, when looking at him you could see the similarities between him and his parents. Despite his abilities to change his appearance there was always some form of aspect that remained with him. Although he accepted that they had died he often wanted to hear stories of what they had been like, it was difficult to speak of them both when he asked Hermione. She became tongue tied, as though any mention of the people who had died in an attempt to bring justice into the world once again tore into her heart, dredging up memories of those that had also been lost in the struggle. She seemed to be more greatly affected by this than any other. As though her emotional sensor was switched onto sensitive overdrive.

It seemed as though everything affected her more strongly emotionally than it seemed to any other. Crookshanks had passed away days before Christmas, once again ripping open the walls that kept the emotions she attempted to force into the back of her mind where they should – out of sight. She had spent her entire Christmas alone, unable to face anyone that day of all days. Yet, slowly time had crept by allowing her to leave the sanctuary of her apartment and creep back into society as though she had never left for those few days. Yet she had not even made it to her office before being cornered by Harry, who was already attempting to force her to rejoin those in society who still managed to find the spirit to be merry and happy on such occasions. Hermione however was not. She wore a set of black robes that mirrored that of something someone would be found wearing at a funeral. She had not worn anything remotely colourful since the wedding.

At the time it seemed as though everything was perfect in her life, yet in a matter of minutes everything had fallen apart. Ron had removed everything that was his from the apartment they called their own, realising that perhaps he had never loved her at all. _He had never loved her at all. _Yet that did nothing to explain the countless times he had professed to love her, it did nothing to explain the moments they had shared together or the nights spent in each others embrace. Everything that her life had been seemed to revolve around Ron, where Ron was, what Ron was doing. It was as though now she had become the lost sheep, and there was not a shepherd in sight. All the plans they had made together, the life they had planned to live, they had planned to marry, to have two children, to travel and see the world again. Yet none of that was possible any longer. That future had vanished from within her sight in only milliseconds, where as it had taken years to build.

Her trust, her love, her life – _gone. _It took only moments for a life to come crashing down, only a few worlds to bring one to theirs knees with the realisation they had been living under the impression of a lie. She swallowed uncomfortably as Harry continued to speak about how much this would mean to Ginny, of course those words were key in trying to get Hermione to go anywhere. She was under a large amount of stress the final months of the pregnancy beginning to creep upon her, causing her to feel as though she was underprepared and of course she had begun to panic about small details such as the colour of the babies new room, she wanted a pale yellow, however somehow she thought that seeing as she was _certain _the child was to be a girl it should be significantly more feminine, purple being the colour of her concern.

"Fine, I'll come." Hermione said finally giving in not wishing to cause any more stress to Ginny.

"Wonderful, at least I will not have to stand up your date for you." Harry replied with a chuckle.

"Date!" Hermione replied quickly. "I can't. I don't want a date. I'll just ruin it for them."

"Hermione, my dear. You were requested by this lovely gentleman who over the course of the past few weeks has become increasingly concerned about you. Apparently you are becoming rather recluse, spending countless and shockingly large amounts of time within your office." He said carefully. "If it helps it is not Ron, he does not have red hair, he is intelligent and I'm sure he will be a suitable date for such an occasion."

"How would he know what hours I am spending in my office?" She cried. "Is he following me? Did _you _put him up to this?"

"Alas, the ignorance of the female gender. No I have not asked anyone to follow you, yet it has crossed my mind several times. If you have failed to notice, your office is on the second floor. This particular gentleman clearly prefers to take the stairs rather than the elevator, and your office does have an awfully large window." He said. "I can assure you his concern for you is genuine."

Hermione sighed, she had forgotten about the window which overlooked the large atrium and grand staircase which had been installed after the removal of the barbaric statue installed during the Death Eater's reign at the Ministry. She was rather fortunate to be in possession of such a large and beautiful office which overlooked the beautiful golden fountain and all those walking about the atrium. She found it somewhat soothing, and calming. Yet she had never stopped to think that perhaps the window being open was allowing people to see into her life, allowing them to catch a glimpse of the heartbroken woman behind the large wooden desk whose soul love became her work, the passion in which she poured into her job replacing that of the man she once loved.

It seemed as though everything about her life had become her work, and she supposed that anyone who walked past that window could see that. They would see her on the days in which she stayed overnight, going over proposed amendments several hundred times changing small and almost insignificant details no other would notice to avoid going home. The place she did not want to be, she would much rather spend her nights sleeplessly to avoid remaining awake all night in a place that only reminded her of the past, yet at the same time she could not bring herself to move. She could not bring herself to leave the place she called home. Everything she ever knew was connected to that building, everything she loved somehow managed to be kept from within its walls, as though it were barren of all love. It would never grow there again.

"Ginny expects you to be at the house in half an hour. She has a dress for you to wear." Harry noted quickly looking down at his watch, the same watch that had once been Fabian Prewets. "She was awfully excited about this evening and may have slightly gone overboard, but please, I beg you, as a friend go along with it. I don't think more tears are needed today. She was absolutely heartbroken when I mentioned perhaps you might have been busy."

"Is it that bad?" Hermione asked softly, imagining her friend crying about something that simple.

"At times, you know she is lonely. I have to be at work at all hours of the day, Luna is currently gallivanting about Europe with Rolf, Ginny actually suspects he may propose to her this evening."

"Really?" Hermione asked her tone dull and rather emotionless, despite the happiness such an event would cause. Rolf truly was every bit as eccentric as Luna.

"Hermione, just because it happened to you, does not mean that it will happen to everyone. It's time you moved on and accepted that he's not going to come blazing into your life once again."

"I never expected him to!" Hermione retorted. "For your information, I have an awful lot to deal with at the current time, I should be allowed time to slowly pull my life together without my best friend sticking his nose in wherever possible!"

Harry looked rather affronted as she made this statement, "I do not. However I believe that holding onto the past as your have for such a prolonged period of time is unhealthy. Clearly, just look at how much of your life seems to revolve around avoiding others."

"It does not!" Hermione cried. "What gives you that impression?"

"Hermione," Harry said seriously. "It's six hours to midnight and you are just arriving at work. Clearly you arrive later to avoid seeing anyone, you have been doing this for months. I think you will be surprised that your date this evening also happens to be somewhat of a workaholic. I believe you will actually like him quite a lot, he is rather interesting."

"Who is it?" Hermione asked.

"That is my secret to keep, and your surprise to be had." Harry replied cryptically. "Trust me, he is attending at Ginny's request, she came into work the other evening and quite clearly in her madness invited him. No doubt feeling sorry for him and the large amount of work he seems to always have piled upon his desk. However at least some good has come out of this situation and I can and shall once again assure you that he is a good person. Trust me on this, I work with him quite frequently and he strikes me as the sort of person you will get along with quite well."

"Harry, I don't think I am ready to attend parties let alone be set up on a blind date at one. It just seems as though it implies that I have moved on entirely and I haven't yet. Part of me _wants _to hold onto the past."

"It's just a date, it's not as though we're asking you to marry him… Yet." Harry added laughing. "Look at the time, I better run. You better get moving Ginny will be getting anxious; you only have ten minutes until you are officially late to your dressing and official New Years Eve date preparations. You know what she is like; if you are late she may just have to kill you."

"I'll leave now." I said. "I was not required today; I was just coming in to get on top of all the paper work early before the hearing next week."

"Well I suggest you get moving, I think you'll agree with me that at the moment Ginny would rather sooner rather than later. Trust me Hermione, you shall have fun tonight. It's all been planned to the finest of details, and just look at it this way, most of those in attendance will have forgotten about the wedding. They will just be glad to see you are finally back out and about again. It will be a good chance for you to see them all; much has changed in a year and a half. You'll be surprised trust me."

Hermione was unsure whether she was in the mood for any surprises, particularly seeing a crowd similar to that of her wedding, she knew that this would be another occasion which called for a Hogwarts-style reunion. Many of the students in her year coming back from all corners of the globe to partake in various events, so far this year she had managed to avoid several. She had received several invitations including numerous weddings, a Dumbledore's Army reunion and of course the one reunion she feared above all others - The Gryffindor House reunion. Any excuse would do to avoid being in such a close proximity to the man that has so easily and readily broken her heart as though it were made of wax and not soft fleshy tissue. He seemed to be so easily unaffected by his choices, as though picking up the pieces of his life came easily. To Hermione Granger it did not.

"I trust you." She replied to one of the few people she managed to trust in the past year, many others she would not dream of opening her heart to.

She watched in silence as Harry walked along the corridor quickly, towards the elevator which lay at the end of the dark corridor. Clearly this detour had a purpose, she should have guessed. He was one of the privileged few who could apparate directly into their offices. Most Aurrors could strictly for security purposes which had been heightened in light of the war, despite being long over the aftermath continued. Hermione doubted it would end, even in this life or the next. For centuries the pain and suffering caused would be remembered. The families torn needlessly apart, the loved ones that would be forever lost due to their sacrifices. Those people, children such as Teddy Lupin orphaned by the war. He would never know his parents, he and Harry were more alike than anyone could ever have predicted.

Hermione quickly locked her office door once again. She was going to be late the way she was going, however it seemed as though a change of clothes would not be necessary. Nor would any preparation be required as it seemed as though Ginny was looking to eliminate any possible reason for which she could be late, or avoid arriving at all. She moved swiftly down the large staircase and to the nearest fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder from within her pocket. She through it into the fire which was already crackling away merrily, watching as the flames erupted into a sea of emerald green flickering out around her. She carefully ducked her head and stepped into the fireplace, carefully remembering the address so not to arrive at the wrong location.

"Number Twelve Grimmuld Place." She said quietly so that nobody nearby could hear, yet at the same time it was clear enough for her to be transported effectively.

She burst out the other end of the nearby fireplace in the blink of an eye, the distance between the two buildings was rather short, she could have walked. But to preserve what little time she had left she decided it would be best if she used the Floo Network. It was precisely six thirty as she stepped from within the grand marble fireplace at Number Twelve Grimmuld Place, Ginny was standing on edge just meters away, one hand on her growing stomach. She wore a simple red dress that complimented her long red hair which was pulled into an elegant red bun. As she turned to greet Hermione a red blur shot between them colliding with a nearby wall.

"James how many times do I have to tell you!" She cried in a voice that was reminiscent of Molly Weasley. "I have told you not to ride your broomstick in the house! Do you ever listen?" She said pulling out her wand and summoning the broomstick which lay upon the ground beside James into her hand.

"Mum!" He cried in a shrill voice. "Give it back!"

"No, darling." She said softly to him. "Teddy?" She called seconds later.

Hermione watched as Teddy appeared in the doorway, his aqua coloured hair clashing quite brilliantly with his red sweater and yellow scarf. He smiled politely at Hermione, waving at her in an attempt to greet her. She simply gave him a shaky smile back as he walked forward and gathered James off the ground in his arms.

"Teddy, would you be a dear and take James into the next room and keep him occupied. I just need to sort something out with Hermione; it should not take all that long. Just call if you have any problems."

"Sure Mrs. Potter." He said politely.

"Call me Ginny, dear." She said with a smile as he walked away carrying James softly in his arms before turning to Hermione. "Hermione how are you? I apologise for that. He received a toy broomstick from Harry for Christmas and I am sure it is the worst idea; I am convinced he shall break something valuable. Harry doesn't seem to mind, however I have different ideas." She said merrily as she swooped in embracing Hermione in her arms.

"Ginny, it's wonderful to see you!" Hermione replied in the most cheerful of voices she could manage. "He certainly has grown!"

"Tell me about it!" She replied happily. "Now come upstairs, I have your dress ready and everything! Your hair might take a little work however I'm sure we can manage something!"

These days, Ginny was invited to more parties than anyone Hermione knew. Most through the Quidditch league however Harry seemed to be invited to just as many through work and it seemed all they ever did was mingle among others at fancy parties and balls. Apparently they had even warranted and invitation to the Malfoy Ball, which of course was known to be the most auspicious occasion of the year. Everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world attended, and clearly Harry and Ginny more than easily fit this description. They had however turned down the invitation in light of Ginny's nearing due date. However this was only speculation, Hermione did not follow the Daily Prophet's gossip column all that closely. She did however notice that the guest list did not include Draco, which seemed rather strange; he was not invited to his own family event.

Ginny grabbed Hermione by the wrist and dragged her upstairs to the bedroom which she and Harry shared. Carefully she pulled a long rather expensive looking gown from within the large wardrobe. Hermione's jaw dropped, there was no way she would be wearing _that _dress this evening. It was an emerald green colour, the very low neckline decorated with a series of diamantes. Clearly Ginny had not bought this dress for herself; it was far too long even for her, so long in fact that it would only fit Hermione or another as tall as she was. She felt a churning sensation erupt in her stomach, as though even the though of wearing such a revealing, colourful dress was foreign to her, almost _exciting. _

"I can't wear that!" She cried.

"Of course you can! You don't have to feel bad, I didn't pay for it, I was given it." She said pulled it from within a clear plastic clothes protector. "I thought it would be worth keeping for you. It's one of the newest lines for the summer season. They forgot I wasn't playing this year, they also forgot I was pregnant. Which in their eyes equals a dress that would never fit or look good on me so they told me to keep it."

"It's far too low! Look at the plunging neckline, my goodness!" She cried. "There is nothing on the back plus I have no shoes or jewellery that will look good with a dress like that!"

"That is where I prepare in the areas in which you fail. I have shoes, jewellery, makeup and anything else we shall need for this grand makeover. Trust in me and by the end of the evening you shall have at least two eligible bachelors hanging off your every word!" She said throwing her arms into the air as though this were the appropriate moment for melodrama. "First your going to put that dress on, you have two minutes, in which I shall return and the rest of the makeover shall begin."

She left the room quickly, her footsteps echoing loudly as she hurried down the stairs, no doubt to check upon James and Teddy. Hermione quickly undressed placing her robes neatly upon the bed before sliding the tight silk dress over her head. After carefully zipping the dress up she realised the dress really left very little to the imagination. It highlighted every bump and every curve as though the sole purpose of the dress was to humiliate her. The door opened suddenly startling her, an impressed Ginny walking through the doors clapping her hands happily, a look of triumph upon her face.

"You look perfect already!" She cried. "Your date will be incredibly pleased; you look perfectly acceptable for an evening out or a ball. I wish we could have attended the Malfoy's Ball." She added sadly. "But it's just too difficult at the moment, we really can't risk all that much."

She moved forward, forcing Hermione to take a seat in front of the large mirror and wooden table laden with various types of makeup and assorted potions. She carefully worked her hands through Hermione's hair, twirling and pinning sections back as though this was something she did each day. There was a certain ease to the way in which she handled Hermione's hair, as though she naturally excelled at it. Hermione did not look up; she did not want to see what was becoming of the thick mess she was so accustomed to. She did not want to see herself looking at all half decent for human company. It only reminded her of the effort that she had placed into her appearance for the wedding, and in the end it inevitably did very little to help her, her makeup ending up smeared across her cheeks within minutes of hearing that dreadful news.

"Well your hair is done." Ginny noted. "You can look you know. It is not all that terrible."

"I would prefer to see the end product." Hermione replied quickly attempting to avoid the topic.

"Whatever you wish." She replied beginning to apply a thin layer of foundation to Hermione's smooth pale face.

After minutes of poking prodding, eye opening, eye closing and all sorts of other strange and seemingly unnecessary facial expressions Ginny deemed Hermione ready for the party stepping away from the mirror completely allowing Hermione to catch a glimpse of her reflection in its entirety. She could not help but gasp, her reflection, how it had changed! She no longer seemed to carry the dark circles beneath her eyes that seemed to tell the world she still carried those memories from her failed relationship close to her heart, the telltale sign that she had not moved on. The sleepless nights, the tears and the pain she felt visible for the world to see. Despite her efforts to minimise such visible signs of how her personal life failed while her academic and professional life excelled. Her drawn features and pale complexion the signs of everything she was, everything she had and everything she had to lose, which in her eyes amounted to almost nothing.

However, many would disagree. Hermione Granger was anything short of nothing; her success in the academic world had not gone unnoticed, twice had she been asked to join the Wizenagamot, twice had she denied this honour. Her professional life was almost as impressive, twice had she been voted among Witch Weekly's Most Successful People of the Year. Twice had she been awarded the Most Successful Person Award. There was no denying that almost everything Hermione Granger decided to do she excelled at, all apart from her personal life. It was the one tarnish on her perfect life, the one aspect she could never, and suspected would never get right. How it hurt her to think that she was so close to achieving that balance. So close and yet it had slipped right through her fingers.

She spluttered as she glanced at her reflection, the perfection of her appearance and how it changed the way she seemed to hold herself. The woman in the mirror appeared confident, were as on the inside, she was slowly dying. On the outside she seemed beautiful if not almost perfect, were as her mask hid a life of imperfection, lonely nights spent crying herself to sleep. It was as though the simple makeup and dress had pulled together the remnants of her once life, drawing them together neatly to form the illusion of perfection. Hermione knew that the person in the mirror was a lie, it had been long since she had appeared anything like the woman staring back at her, years even. It was as though the person she had become accustomed to had gone on vacation, she would return. Hermione slowly stood, unable to tear her eyes away from the image before her. Her thin body began to shake, tears welling up in her eyes as she realised the woman staring back at her was long gone.

"Don't cry… It'll ruin the makeup." Ginny whispered softly hugging her friend gently.

"I can't help it!" Hermione cried, her voice sounded strangled. "This is too much."

"Perhaps it is what you need. Perhaps too much is the cure you are after." Ginny replied wiping a tear from Hermione's eye gently. "Sometimes we need to let go. Personally, I believe you are ready to let go. You've held on far too long."

"I don't want to forget."

"Who ever said you had to forget? No, you never have to forget. But you do need to move on, you need to move on and be happy. Perhaps you will never forget, perhaps you will be reminded of everything everyday for the rest of your life. But perhaps it will be in a good way, perhaps you'll hold onto those memories with love, but the future will shadow them. One day you'll wake up and realise that everything is alright again."

"How do you know that it will?" Hermione asked.

"I've seen a lot of suffering in my time, but I've also seen people survive it. Hermione you can survive this, now it might seem like all you want to do is cry, but trust me, you can pull through. The grass is always greener on the other side."

"I hope you're right." Hermione whispered pulling a tall pair of black stilettos onto her feet. "Because at the moment it seems as though everything I touch falls to pieces."

"I doubt that. Now run along, your date is here. We shall meet you at the hall, _please _don't mess this up. Actually ensure he makes it to the hall." She said shooing Hermione quickly from the room with several sweeping motions. "Have fun and don't forget to _smile_!"

"I'll try." Hermione whispered pushing her back against the cool wooden exterior of the now closed door; her breathing had become irregular and unsteady.

As she pressed her body against the door the memories only seemed to come flooding back. The last person whom she had dated was Ron; she had not expected that to change, not ever in all honesty. Now that the time had come she felt more unprepared than she could have ever imagined. Almost as though she had been thrown into this headfirst without any form of warning. However that was quite untrue in a sense, she had of course been given several options to back out of this ridiculous plan. To avoid the New Year's Eve festivities with one of her many social-event dodging excuses, the one's that she had perfected in mere weeks of her change in lifestyle. At first there was only so many excuses that could be made, drinks after work she could avoid. However in time she learnt to avoid those who asked her to attend such events, she learnt to work later in the day to avoid all contact.

In her time practicing these skills she had made three rules, to which she attempted to abide by at all times, mostly in an effort to avoid such pain again. The first being to avoid unnecessary contact, this mostly extended to those who did not know any better. Her second rule consisted of not allowing anyone into her life, perhaps this was the reason that the prospect of dating left her feeling ill to the stomach, it was a rule just dangling there – waiting to be broken. Her last rule was simple, and she had never gone as far as to even step closely to that line, it was the most simple of all, more of a promise than a rule, a promise to never love another as she had Ron. Of course even she had her doubts as to how long this would last; even she could not tell whether she would feel that pain, that barely bearable pain in her heart, as if it had been torn neatly into two. It seemed as though at the time she had promised herself that she would never love again, and in her opinion that was only fair.

But of course if fairness where ever going to come blazing into her life, surely an appropriate time had come and gone already. Had there not been several moments in the past two years of her life that would have signalled a return of balance in her life. For one, why would Ron propose if he planned to run the second he could? Why would he bother telling her that he loved her? That he would never leave her and would always ensure that no harm would ever befall her? Why would he lie? Of course, even if he had of told her days before the wedding that it would be in their best interests to call it off she would have been hurt, however there was a distinct difference between calling it off and leaving his fiancée upon the altar alone. Neither was preferable, however, Hermione knew deep down that the first would have avoiding much of the mess that had resulted. It would have also managed to save her the embarrassment she felt until this very day when in public. That knowledge that the general community had gained on her personal life, there was very little for her to hide behind now.

She pulled herself away from the door, wandering once again over to the mirror to glance at the woman she would be if only for an evening. Everything about the woman who was her reflection screamed confidence and beauty. When on the inside this illusion could never fit. There was nothing confident about Hermione, or so she thought. There was nothing naturally beautiful about her appearance, there never had been. The plunging neckline of the dress, flecked with perfectly place diamantes was the work of master. Hours of work had been placed into this dress. A dress which Ginny had clearly been lying about, she was tall, but certainly not as tall as Hermione. _Perhaps_, she thought, _this is the world's way of forcing me to move on. Perhaps this is what I must do, even if I must pretend to be happy even if it is for only an evening. _She stood up straight, and turned, she would not even show this much skin at the beach! She doubted it was at all appropriate for party such as this.

She diverted her eyes to the door where Ginny stood smiling at her, her smile shone with the confidence and love that she felt for her friend. The woman so close to becoming her sister-in-law. The person she called her best female friend. There was more than a simple plot behind this plan, there was a carefully constructed plot which would either make or break Hermione, and at the current moment she was betting on it being another breaking situation. Hermione felt for the first time a strange pang of hope deep within her chest, almost as though part of her wished for this to be a successful evening. However strongly her heart objected to this desire, she could feel its existence in her every bone, almost as though she too had been pushed to the edge of no return. Almost as though she had been denying herself of the desire to move on for many more months than necessary. It was true, Ron was still alive. She had not lost him in an unforseen, terrible accident. He was still very much alive and living. She however may as well have lost him; any stranger looking into her life may have assumed she had lost someone close. However, she was grieving but for an entirely different purpose.

"If you really don't want to do this is, it's perfectly alright to back out now." Ginny whispered unsurely.

It was the most unsure words Hermione had heard Ginny Potter whisper, she was the most confident person Hermione knew. There had never been a moment of uncertainty for the girl. However now Hermione could see it, almost as though it had been there the entire time since the ending of the war. An uncertainty based upon fear, that fear that you would lose another loved one, that you could drive those you loved so dearly away from you. Ginny had taken Fred's death terribly; there was no denying the fact that every Weasley had. They had lost one of the most vital parts of their clan, George having lost his other half, his twin. Hermione had seen him on numerous occasions; however he lacked that air of confidence which he held while in the presence of his twin, that air that nothing could defeat them. However, it had. George was alone in the world separated from his twin; there was no denying that fact. Sure, he had moved on in life, married with a child but there was something missing in his once carefree smile, his exuberant attitude towards life those were the things that Hermione missed.

There were many things about the old days which Hermione missed dearly, however nothing could bring them back. Nothing could bring back the years spent in happiness, those years in which the bleak and dark times which had shredded her hopes and dreams so easily would never have seemed to exist. A time in which she merely fantasised about one day marrying Ron and perhaps having two children, whom despite their arguments they would name Rose and Hugo. Those were the days in which nothing was serious other than saving the world all over again. However it was Harry leading Hermione and Ron into these situations, and still to this very day he did so, however as a paid profession. Some hinted that he would rise to Head of the Aurror department within the next few years. Hermione suspected that this would in fact come to pass; there was indeed no other who could perform such a task with such confidence and strength. Harry even at eighteen was a far superior Aurror to even those who had been within the profession for years.

It only made sense that he would be made head of the department some day. However, that day drew nearer and nearer, as did the future and there was no end or happiness in sight for her. Everyone else was able to build themselves lives, yet all she had built herself was a shattered heart. _How in the name of Merlin was that fair? Why was it she who had to suffer alone in silence? _From that very moment Hermione Granger made herself another promise, she would not live alone in sadness or fear any longer. She would live once again. She stood up straight, pushing her shoulders back carefully taking several steps to avoid slipping in the shoes which Ginny had handed her. Taking a deep breath she walked forwards, exiting the room closing the door behind her, and by so doing locking the old, sad Hermione Granger away from sight forever. Never to return or show her face in society again. For the first time in quite a long time Hermione Granger felt free of burden, as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders for a brief time allowing her to live. That was all she could focus upon, that feeling that the weight had gone, she was free of it.

She placed a single hand upon the staircase rail for support as she descended the stairs. At the foot of the stairs she could hear giggling, James was laughing quite loudly about something. Hermione quickly moved down the stairs to find none other than Draco Malfoy pulling faces at James. He looked so at ease with the young boy, almost as though he had entertained countless children in such a way before. However, Hermione struggled to remember a time that the younger Draco Malfoy even managed to show kindness, let alone a softer side. It seemed as though time too had changed him, softening him. There was something less harsh about the man before her, almost as though his entire exterior had changed also. He certainly had lost the rude and cruel air that surrounded him as a teenager, it had changed. Morphed into something much softer and more human. Almost as though something had humbled him.

_But what could humble Draco Malfoy?_ The boy who bullied younger and _older _students at school for mere sport humbled? How could _that _even be possible? I found a gentle smile breaking across my lips as I watched the way in which he talked to James, the way in which any parent would speak to a child. Yet that would make no sense, Draco had no siblings, no children. As far as anyone knew his friends had no children. As far as anyone knew he had little to no social life. Despite all this there was a man she barely recognised before her, even seeing it seemed to wash away the memories of the unpleasant child she once knew. Replaced instead with only this memory and those of the quiet man from work who seemed to spend most of his time in solitude. She could relate with the feeling of wanting to be left alone, that feeling that the world was out to get you. However as much as she tried she saw no reason as to why Draco Malfoy would feel this.

Draco Malfoy was the sole heir to one of the biggest wizarding fortunes the world had ever known. He was among the most celebrated in his profession and was as his father had been a member of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Board. He was one of the most highly influential governors upon the board, able to sway the votes easily as though it came naturally. His girlfriend, Astoria Greengrass was among the most highly celebrated Daily Prophet Columnist of the past century, with a following greater than that of Rita Skeeter. Everyday thousands of witches would seek her advice on all things involving the latest styles. She had even begun her own range of robes and potions last year, to say that she would be every bit as wealthy as Draco would be an understatement. If there was a party worth attending Astoria Greengrass would be among those present. It was difficult to define her, beautiful would be one thing, yet another would be selfish. _Everyone_, including Hermione knew that she was not the most loyal of partners. Many claiming that she and Draco were in an open relationship, however it was more open for her.

Hermione imagined, upon opening the Daily Prophet in the morning I would see yet another photo of her, engaged in some outrageous, scandalous stunt. This would not be the first, second, third or even the last. She was one of the most highly talked about individuals in England; many young witches envied her, mainly for her beauty, but others for her relationship with Draco. Hermione could not see how Draco put up with her behaviour; she frequently disappeared off the face of the earth, sometimes for months at a time. Draco at one point vanished with her; however both returned five months later with a tan, more happy and publicly in love than ever. Hermione secretly envied their love. Clearly it could withstand almost anything. Ginny and Harry, too were the same. Their love seemed to survive almost everything, Hermione envied that hers could not. Perhaps envy was not the correct emotion, perhaps jealously and anger were appropriate. She felt as though she had been cheated out of the life she had always wanted, the life she felt was hers. Clearly it was not, perhaps she would always feel this way, and perhaps she wouldn't. But for now, she would live in the present, hoping that she would never look back to the past that hung on her to be grieved.

She swallowed her fear and entered the large living room. "Draco." She said kindly, forcing a pleasant smile as he turned to face her.

"Hermione…" He whispered, his face loosing all emotion in an instant. "You look… You look so…different."

"Thank you… I guess. You look…great." I replied, it seemed as though both Draco and Hermione seemed to be lacking some form of social order.

"Well, isn't this lovely." Ginny said pleasantly entering the room. "It's so wonderful that you agreed to this arrangement Draco. Isn't it just, Hermione?

"Yes it is." Hermione replied. "What time shall we be expecting you at the party?"

"Oh, Harry is running a little late and he has to take Teddy and James to Andromeda's. I suspect we'll arrive soon after you do." She replied straightening her dress with her hands.

"Why are we going to be late?"

"The traffic is horrific." Draco said, finally speaking. "I struggled to make it here on time, considering the traffic is so terrible it would be a bit of a stretch making it there on time."

"Should we leave now then?" She asked.

"We're just waiting for my car… They had an errand to run and are running a little behind schedule."

"That's perfectly fine." She replied happily, more forced than real. "I'm sure, there's plenty to discuss while we wait."

"How's work been?" He asked suddenly. "Have they passed the Muggle Protection Act?"

"I suspect that they will in several days. It's on the top of the agenda for the new year, so I'm hoping it will bring about some order in the world for the New Year."

"That's good; you worked so hard on it. It will bring about a much needed change."

"I hope it shall." She replied with a real smile, her work the only joy left in her life.

Hermione looked up, realising that everyone else other than Draco and herself had vacated the room. Leaving them entirely alone. It had been such a long time since she had been alone with another male that was not Harry. There was something almost soothing about Draco's presence; Hermione did not feel entirely uncomfortable in his presence at the very least. In fact part of her wished he would hold her tightly to his chest and tell her everything would be alright. A strange desire, but a desire none the less. She wished that day she had walked crying silently into his office that he reached over the desk and took her hand in his and told her that everything would be alright. If not Draco, she wished someone would. She wished that she did not fall to the ground sobbing uncontrollably out of site with no-one left to comfort her. She wished there was someone, _anyone _that would run after her hold her tightly in her arms and pull her through the never ending nightmare that was her life.

Yet, as usual that help never came. She was left to manage life alone, left to pick up the pieces that she could never place back together in their once perfect arrangement. She would have given anything to have someone tell her everything would be okay. Anything at all. The gap between Draco and herself had drawn even smaller. Almost as though each of them was slowly edging towards the other. Hermione, for the life of her could not fathom the meaning of this. She could barely think at all. For a moment part of her screamed at every muscle in her body to close the space even further but she could not allow it. She could barely allow herself the luxury of hope, let alone entertain a thought that she and Draco may have shared some form of contact. She looked into his eyes, which seemed to almost be transfixed upon hers. He seemed as though he was struggling to say something but could not quite bring words to what it was that he had to say. Hermione looked upwards; hanging ever so slyly above them was a leftover branch of mistletoe.

"Mistletoe…" She whispered.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do…" He whispered, but not moving away, not moving closer either.

"It's harmless." She replied softly, however she was unsure exactly how harmless a kiss could be.

"Close your eyes." He whispered.

"Why?" She asked numbly.

"Just do it." He replied almost tiredly.

She did as she was told, although once she would have defied anything he said to her, now was not the moment for such childish behaviour. She closed her eyes lightly, afraid to smudge her makeup. She could feel him closing the gap between them, slowly, carefully as though he wished to cause her any excess pain. For seconds it seemed as though he was going to stop, unable to go through with such an act. She did not blame him; she doubted Astoria would be pleased to know of this event under the mistletoe. As she was about to open her eyes she felt his lips upon hers. Gentle and soft at first, the gentle brushing of his lips against hers but it intensified slightly as his hands wrapped around her bare back, exposed by the dress. Part of her felt alive once again, as though his touch had ignited a fire deep within her. The fire did not cease as his lips left hers and she opened her eyes. He looked rather shocked, as though he found something he was not expecting from the harmless kiss.

"Hermione… I'm sorry…" He whispered quickly as though he was ashamed of his actions.

"It's alright it was a harmless kiss. Nothing." She replied, knowing she was lying to herself in saying this.

Their silence was broken by a loud whistle from the hall. Teddy was standing within the hall, a smirk upon his face that reminded Hermione so magnificently of Tonks. "Hey Ginny!" He called running along the hallway.

"Yes?" Came her voice from the kitchen.

"You'll never guess what I just saw!" He called as he ran towards the kitchen.

"No!" Hermione and Draco called out in unison but moving quickly towards the door. They both stopped. Turning to look at one another in amazement, perhaps even a little confused as to what had just happened.

Moments later a very smug looking Ginny appeared once again in the doorway, her hands resting upon her pregnant stomach. "Well, well. I leave you alone for five minutes and you seemed to have skipped the idle chit-chat and jumped straight into a bit of snogging. Hermione, I can't say that I blame you, you've been alone for so long!"

"Ginny, please, it was nothing like _that. _The mistletoe… It its fault." Hermione said, struggling to find words herself now, instead everything she said came out as a blur of confused words.

"Sure it is. By the end of the night you'll be blaming the wine!" She said laughing before glancing out the window. "Draco it would seem as though your car just arrived. Try to behave yourselves on the way there will you?" She asked.

"I'm sure we will." Hermione said walking from the living room. "I'll see you there. Thank you for everything." She whispered in her friends ear as she hugged her gently.

Draco thanked Ginny politely also, walking towards the door and opened it, holding it open for Hermione. For a brief moment as she took Draco's arm and stepped out on the street she forget everything that had once defined her, the sadness, the broken heartedness that seemed at times to consume her. She forgot the pain she felt each time she looked in the mirror or glanced out over her balcony. There were those emotions which had hung, tightly knotted in her chest but as she stepped out onto the snow covered sidewalk the knots vanished for the first time in almost a year and she could breathe again. She had forgotten everything it meant to be Hermione Granger and all she knew at that very moment was there were now six hours, three-hundred and sixty minutes, twenty-one thousand and six hundred seconds until the clock struck midnight. For now it seemed as though she would be spending those six hours within the company of Draco Malfoy. Things were about to change…

And so, the clock struck seven.


	2. Seven O'Clock

**Authors Note: Please note that the rating on this story has been changed from T to M. Sorry for any inconvenience.

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**

New Years Eve: 7.00pm

_Draco Malfoy

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_

Draco felt utterly ridiculous, was it possible to feel even more ridiculous than he already did? Most likely not. He felt confused, frustrated and entirely spontaneous as he took Hermione Granger's arm and helped her into the town car awaited them at the foot of the Potter's entrance stairs. But this was not necessarily an entirely bad thing. Perhaps it would solve many of his problems in a single go, _without _the need for alcohol of any sort.

When alone it seemed to be his only comfort, the only way he could forget the way he had been used by the one he thought loved him as he did her. But clearly, that was not the case. It made him feeling ill inside even thinking of Astoria, she had fooled everyone, including him. Unluckily for Draco, he had fallen, hook, line and sinker for her ploy and he was lucky to not to have allowed it to destroy him. The potential for such a thing of course was there, however it would not only have ruined his career most likely, but hers as well. He slept safely, alone in his warm bed each night in this knowledge.

How much the world had changed since the Hogwarts days, how much had happened in such a short space of time? To think, it felt like only yesterday he had finished his final and sixth year of Hogwarts, it felt like only yesterday that he actually got a kick out of belittling Hermione Granger.

_How the tides had changed. _

If she knew, if she only knew what had happened to him these past few years, perhaps she too would have a reason to ridicule him. However, he gathered from the way she was unable to pull herself together she wouldn't be interested in revenge in the near future. This settled his nerves somewhat. Draco thought, if he were Hermione he would have already managed to find one hundred ways to insult him, however she had not said anything, she had not mentioned the untidy nature of his hair. The bland, boring nature of his cologne - the same he wore to work each and every day.

_Did she even notice such things? _

Perhaps if you were Hermione Granger you did not have time to notice the small details, she always seemed to be under an incredible amount of stress it really was no wonder she failed to notice such things.

However, he had to admit, she looked the very opposite of stressed this evening. In fact, if anything she only seemed slightly nervous. It was a rarity to even see her in public in anything other than he black robes, to think, she was wearing such a beautiful dress. Surely she would not have picked it herself? It was hard to imagine her any other way than the broken individual he saw daily, it was hard to imagine her as anyone other than the girl lying upon the ground of the church sobbing, her makeup smeared across her face.

How this had aged her, Draco thought, not physically but mentally. Sure, she looked thinner, paler and generally in poorer health, that of course showed. But there was nothing to suggest that she had aged at all since her Hogwarts days, if anything she looked just as young. But it was the way she held herself, the mask of confidence she wore that would fool any other that he could see through. He could see how much this arrangement was already hurting her, the pain of being exposed to a world that had witnessed her public humiliation. Inside, Draco felt anger rising within him, fury almost. He felt ashamed that he had done nothing to stop this from happening to her. Sure, he'd once detested this girl. But _no-one _deserved the treatment she had received. _No-one _deserved that sort of humiliation she felt inside. Draco of all people would know.

He wondered what Malfoy Manor looked like this evening, how the banquet hall would be decorated for the ball. The guests already pouring in from every corner of the globe. Astoria of course would be there, she would have been there very early in the day helping with preparations, she had been granted the interviews and photography rights to the event. Perhaps as another form of revenge on his parents part.

Draco had no interest in ever seeing that horrid woman again. For too long he had put up with her ridiculous and childish behaviour. For too long he simply decided to overlook her cheating, preferring to be with her than without her. He felt like such a fool, a fool for the moments he actually believed she loved him, a fool for loving her. He had been willing to do anything to protect her, he would give anything to her. Yet how she had so willingly thrown this in his face. How willingly he had allowed her to!

He could not believe his foolishness. His parents, on the other hand believed that it would be best for him to remain with her, no matter the situation. They of course knew everything that had occurred, and they were still advising them to remain the seemingly happy couple? Draco was fed up with it. He was fed up with the way he had not only been used by Astoria but by his parents. He was simply a tool, a tool used to achieve a union with one of the few pureblood families to which they were not already related.

_How dare they suggest that he continue to live a lie?_

That of course was the latest Malfoy spat. The Daily Prophet had already detailed it extensively, however none of the reporters knew all the details.

_Very few people did. _

It had begun one evening last year in May; it was rather cold Draco could remember. He noticed the rain outside and did not feel like eating out and decided to make his way home. When he returned from work late, that of course was nothing out of the ordinary he found Astoria upon the couch sobbing helplessly. That was a rarity. She was home from work – _early. _

Draco proceeded with caution; perhaps she was in another of her moods, those moods that seemed to almost destroy her at times. Slowly Draco walked across the living room of their large apartment towards her. She was sitting completely in the dark clutching a single strip of parchment to her chest. Draco leant over and switched on one of the large standing lamps. She did not move.

There was something incredibly wrong with her. Draco bent down and took her hands in his own, carefully sliding the parchment from her hands, casting his eyes upon it. It was a slip from St. Mungos. Draco scanned along the list of tests they had performed each recording as negative that was until the very last. _Pregnancy._ His heart skipped a beat as his eyes moved across the page ever so cautiously to the result. _Positive. _

The parchment slid from his hands and onto the floor. He sat down upon the couch and gathered his girlfriend in his arms and rocked her gently backwards and forwards until she fell asleep. It was then that he picked her up and placed her within their bed and walked back into the living room running his hands through his hair.

_Could the child be his?_

_Could it be the child of another? _

He couldn't bring himself to ask her before. Perhaps, just maybe there was a chance of it being his. Should he marry her, he wondered.

_What was he supposed to do? _

He pointed his wand at the fireplace, the logs instantly igniting. He wandered across throwing a handful of the Floo Powder within his pocket into the fire. Clearly stating Malfoy Manor before plunging his face into the flames. He received quite a shock to see his parents sitting in front of the fire opposite one another. His Mother had a glass of red wine within her hand, his Father reading the Daily Prophet. They too received a shock to see their only son's head appearing in the flames of their fire.

"Draco?" Narcissa asked quietly.

"Yes, Mother." Draco reply.

"It's late; I hope you are well aware of this." His father called.

"I know, I need help." Draco replied honestly.

"What is it this time?" His father asked. "A better apartment? A car? Heaven forbid -an island?"

"Father this is no time for you sarcasm." Draco replied. "I need your advice."

"What's wrong, darling?" Narcissa asked.

"Astoria is pregnant." Draco admitted.

"Draco!" His Father scolded, his voice becoming loud. "Have you thrown your sense entirely out the window?"

"Father, I assure you, we have been… _cautious."_

"Not cautious enough it would seem." Lucius replied.

"Mother, please…" Draco pleaded. "What am I to do?"

"We could pull together a wedding as soon as possible." Narcissa replied, Draco noticed she had almost drained the glass in her hand. "Or we could hide the child. You could go on a vacation until the child is born."

"I don't know what to do." Draco admitted running his hands through his long blond hair. "We don't have long."

"I believe that is your fault, Draco." Lucius added.

"Father, you're not helping."

"Lucius, I'll handle this." Narcissa snapped. "Are you sure it's yours?" She asked.

"No, but it could be. That's the thing. It mightn't be, but I'll have to deal with it more than the Father if it's not my own. She'll just make it seem as though it is."

"See Narcissa, we give him everything he asks for. Look where that has gotten him." Lucius added snidely. "He's going to be a Father in several months time whether he likes it or not and then he'll come looking for money, shelter or something else when it all turns upon him."

"Lucius, be quiet." Narcissa said running her hands through her blonde hair. "Do not marry her yet. Until you can be sure the child is your own. Perhaps instead we hide the pregnancy. Perhaps a timely visit to Australia? I hear it's nice there this time of year." Narcissa added. "It's summer; the sun will do you some good. Astoria also. I can arrange accommodation this evening if you are prepared to leave tomorrow or within the next week. Lucius do we still have a house there?" She asked, running through options at a rapid pace.

"I believe so." He replied not glancing up from his newspaper, that would be right, Draco was in a crisis and his father could not care less.

"It's settled then. Draco be ready to leave by tomorrow evening at the latest, I will inform the house keeper, who ever that may be that the house shall be occupied. This is a frightful mess." She admitted. "I wish we had known sooner, however, that is not the case. Please send Astoria to visit tomorrow before you leave, Draco. I miss her company. I will surely miss it whilst you are gone."

"Yes, Mother." Draco replied quietly, for a moment he imagined then losing their tempers.

His Father throwing objects across the room, his mother screaming at him, in a way it would have been better than their eerie silence and calmness. Strange almost unnatural reactions to what he had expected. How at the time he wished he knew the whole story.

He wished he knew that Astoria had told his Mother weeks ago. He wished she had not also told his Father. He wished neither of them had known and that their reactions were natural. He slipped backwards from the fire falling onto the ground in a heap. He did not cry, he had no reason to. However he sat entirely in silence, unable to move. He grabbed the piece of parchment and stared down upon the single word that had changed his life so easily.

_Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive. _

The word continued to roll over within his mind. Echoing. It was the only thing he could hear. It was clear his life would be far different from what he had planned. To think, to think he was preparing to ask Astoria to marry him, he was already looking at rings, preparing to ask her Father whether he would allow such a union. Now what was he supposed to do?

His parents had once again solved his problems for him, they always had. It seemed rather pointless to ask her to marry him; she would take it to mean something else entirely. She was not at all keen on the idea of marriage, and now would be the worst possible time he could imagine to even entertain the thought of asking.

As he threw the last of his clothes into a suitcase and placed them at the door he could not help but imagine the idea of running away. Of sending himself and all his belongings to a far off distant place that had never heard of Draco Malfoy or Astoria Greengrass, a place that was so entirely free that he could be alone. It was almost as though he had free fallen into the unknown, the unpleasant sensation in his stomach nothing more than nerves, rather than fear or discontentment.

The darkness had closed in upon his life. He was a careful person, things like this; they shouldn't happen to careful people. He could not help but feel he was not ready for a child. He was not ready to call himself a father or a husband for that matter. As much as he loved Astoria he could not come to grips with being a husband. Perhaps that is the reason he was apprehensive about presenting her with a ring.

The prospect of living with her for the rest of his life had caused him to reconsider this. He knew she was not the most faithful partner, hell; she was most likely one of the least faithful partner's he could have ended up with. Yet at the same time, for all her faults he loved her. She knew more about him than he cared to think about. He could not simply walk away from that. Yet in the end he had been forced to do so. Unable to bear to look at the person she had become any longer or the child they called their own.

He wondered how it was Hermione could so easily hide the pain she had been caused. He struggled to hide the pain he had been caused half as well. The pain that had led to his only means of covering it, excessive drinking. He admitted he had a problem, however he was trying to clean himself up, she was not worth the pain he had been causing himself. In fact, he believed Astoria to be worth very little in his opinion; in fact he had even cancelled his subscription to the Daily Prophet just to make a point of it.

However that never stopped news of the latest Astoria related gossip to reach his ears, the world was still under the impression that they were still very much an item that ended tonight. With the last of the items she kept in the apartment they shared being sent to her new apartment without a single word shared. They had not exactly spoken in some time.

In fact the child was the only thing they had spoken about and in the end it was simply Astoria's last attempts at getting him to remain with her. Her feeble, half-hearted attempts. Her parents too, were keen to see the Greengrass and the Malfoy lines joined and this was the only chance they had in this generation. Perhaps the only chance they may have of seeing the lines joined. Draco was the least keen for this to occur, and he would not be bullied by his parents as he had bullied the poor woman beside him into a marriage he was not entirely committed to.

"Do you speak to your parents often?" He asked, attempting to make some form of conversation with Hermione to pull himself from his reverie.

"I speak with my Mother daily however, my Father is ill and spends a large amount of time within the hospital, I visit him quite a lot, but he is in no fit state to reply to anything I say to him." She replied quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." He replied. "Will he recover?"

"Perhaps, there's a small chance according to the doctors. Unfortunately, there isn't even a spell that can cure cancer." Her voice was small as she spoke, almost as though this was just another of the horrid things that was happening to her, things she of all people did not deserve.

"I hope he recovers." He whispered. "I'm truly sorry to hear he is unwell, I was not aware of it."

"Luckily, the Daily Prophet doesn't take much interest in me anymore. I'm grateful, I'd rather them not know about his illness, it's difficult on my Mother and I couldn't bear it if were there for world to see." She paused. "I guess you would understand what I mean in a sense. Although… Astoria is the one who seems to be the major correspondent for the… shall we say… gossip columns."

"I'm not with her anymore." He replied.

"I'm sorry?" She replied questioningly. "Last I heard you were engaged."

"That was never the case." He replied staring out the window. "She always liked lying, Astoria."

"Oh, I'm sorry I said anything." She replied, clearly embarrassed by her words he cheeks flushing a bright red.

"Oh, don't worry about it. We only officially ended earlier today. It's not exactly the best day for a blind date I can assure you. However, I couldn't reject a woman so forceful, Ginny is rather frighting in her current state almost as bad as…" He whispered, his voice trailing off.

"Almost as bad who?" She asked.

"My cousin, when she was pregnant last year." He lied easily. "She was rather frightful to be entirely honest."

"I can imagine anyone being so." She replied. "Ginny is rather forceful these days." She whispered holding onto her dress.

"I must say that is a beautiful dress you have on this evening. One that in itself merits an invite to the Malfoy Ball. Unfortunately I don't have an invite this year." He added. "I would have loved to have taken you."

"Oh, don't be silly. This dress is nothing, it's not even my own. I feel rather out of place in it actually. It's much too low cut…"

"It looks perfect. Almost as perfect as your wedding dress." He added.

"Please don't bring that up." She replied. "That was the worst day of my life I hate thinking of what he did, and how little it's affected him in comparison to how badly it's destroyed my life."

"It hasn't destroyed you life. He destroyed his own. He let you go."

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, half thinking he was attempting half-heartedly to insult her.

However, she never found out exactly what he meant by this. The car glided to a smooth halt upon the sidewalk of the large building before them. It was one of the many privately owned function rooms within the city; however this one had a slight difference to the others in this area. This one was owned entirely by wizarding families, and only wizarding families even stood a chance of hiring out the place. Not that any Muggle would have wanted to, from what Draco had heard it was bewitched to appear to be a run down, dilapidated building to any Muggle who passed by, not that it stopped the occasional teenager from wandering in he suspected.

There was no denying that the building had a certain grandeur about it. An air of sophistication and there was something in that air, Draco suspected that it may have been magic, yet he was uncertain. There was something familiar about this place, perhaps he had been here before, yet he could not remember it from any recent events.

Hermione carefully, with Draco's aid climbed from within the vehicle and stepped out onto the street, looking even more splendid than she had before, if that was even possible. Draco found it particularly difficult to imagine this woman as the very same woman who he had bullied almost needlessly through school with any excuse he could find.

She took a nervous glance at the building, almost as though she too recognised it but did not wish to say anything. She quickly set to work tidying her dress from the car trip, carefully smoothing out any creases that had formed within the delicate fabric. Once again, she looked up at the building, the ghosts of past memories swimming within her eyes, so visible and heart wrenchingly clear that Draco could barely stop himself from asking what ever was the matter with her. She simply turned to him and smiled politely taking his arm in her own as they entered into the building, suddenly around them the world had sprung to life.

There were simply people everywhere, each and every single one of them was dressed within neat formal clothing, Draco recognised many from both school and the Ministry. However, it was clear that Hermione was well acquainted with everyone in the room judging by the number of people that stopped them simply to have a few brief words with her before the next person did the same. It seemed that Miss Hermione Granger had become even better connected than the infamous Malfoy's who were notorious for their excellent connections and large fortune.

Draco wondered how many would be in attendance of the ball, there seemed to be many of the regular invitees within this splendidly decorated hall he could not imagine a large turn out for the annual Malfoy Ball. He smiled, that would show them all. He could not help but think these things as they made their way around the room, being stopped every few minutes by yet another person, interested only in speaking with Hermione.

Draco could not help but think it was obvious that she needed to get out more. Particularly as many spoke of not having seen her since, well, since her disastrous wedding. However, more were interested in her sudden change from her usual dreary black robes to the plunging neckline of emerald beauty she sported this evening. In fact, many people had to take more than one glance to be sure that it was her. Perhaps it was the confidence she held herself with, that confidence Draco had yet been unable to find in light of his recent circumstances.

He found himself in admiration of this girl, how she seemed to be able to pretend at least that the weight of the world was not upon her shoulders, and in particular had so far managed to ignore the fact that the man who had almost become her husband was in the far corner snogging the girlfriend of his schooling years.

Draco accepted one of the many glasses of champagne making its way around the room, grabbing another for Hermione once she had finished speaking with whoever it was she was speaking with. He did not seem as interesting as she pretended he was, but he stood there silently nodding occasionally, simply to feign interest.

When the older gentlemen and his partner finally moved away Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, quickly consuming the glass of champagne Draco handed her. He eyed her curiously, she did not come across quite as he imagined, yet it may have been the stress of the whole situation which had her sculling glasses of expensive wine simply to calm her nerves. Draco did not feel as anxious anymore, in fact, he had even less reason to be so now that they were actually at the party.

"I take it you pretend to find him interesting?" Draco asked.

"I suppose that is partially correct. However, he is on the Wizenagamot and he is the one who requests a seat for me each year, I suspect he thinks that one year I shall accept."

"Will you accept?"

"Most likely not. Although it's an honour to even be asked to join I don't think I'm cut out for such duties, I'd must rather simply get on with my job and start a family. Perhaps in later life I might feel the calling of such a position more strongly." She replied taking another glass with a polite smile from a passing waiter.

"I couldn't believe you rejected the request in the first place." Draco admitted. "It seemed to be right up your alley, Granger."

"What is exactly '_up my alley'_ according to Draco Malfoy?" She asked politely taking a small polite sip from the glass.

"I'd say, French wine, gardening, poetry and utterly enthralling conversation with other members of the wizenagamot simply from observation." He said.

"Is that so?" She asked. "Well, you're wrong."

"How so?" He asked.

"My garden is dead, French wine is too expensive, poetry is simply depressing and this so called 'utterly enthralling conversation with other members of the the wizenagamot' you speak of is simply not as enthralling as you'd like to think. Plus, I much prefer the bittersweet burning sensation a Firewhiskey has on offer."

"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" Draco replied astonished. "I don't believe I've ever had a woman admit being partial to Firewhiskey in my presence."

"I'm not as interesting as you'd think." She replied, placing her now empty glass upon a table. "In fact, I spend more time at the office than I do at home, that cannot be healthy."

"Who doesn't do that?" He replied. "It's almost impossible to keep up with such a large work load, and there is some form of court nearly every day to deal with, I rarely make it home before nine most nights."

"I rarely get to work before nine… It seems to be the hour to leave, I'd much rather arrive after the rush." She replied.

"What does your Head of Department have to say about that?"

"Draco," She replied. "I am the Head of the Department. I make my own hours, however I am contactable every hour of the day, it is not as bad as it would seem."

"I've noticed you prefer to work at night rather than in the day." He noted before asking a waiter to get them two Firewhiskeys. "You shouldn't have to hide away from the world; no-one should make you feel like that."

"You did." She admitted. "At Hogwarts, all those horrible things you said to me, they didn't make me feel as though I was the most wanted person around."

"I know…" He admitted. "I apologise for that too. I was young, foolish and ignorant. I understand how crippling such behaviour can be now."

"I doubt you do." She admitted. "You're Draco Malfoy, you've never had anyone tell you that you don't have a right to perform magic simply because your parents are Muggles. I don't believe you ever had to face the prospect of not being able to go to Hogwarts in your Seventh Year simply because of your blood status. Don't pretend, even for a minute that you even understand how rejection works Draco. You have not experienced public humiliation as I have."

Draco was dumfounded. She was so direct and blunt it was difficult to believe this woman was even capable of insulting another when she seemed so fragile. Yet at the same time her words hit so close to home he could scarcely even imagine where exactly it was that they had come from!

"I may be Draco Malfoy," He admitted. "but I too know exactly how it feels to be humiliated. I'm human, Granger and don't even for a second think that I am the same boy you went to school with. So much has changed me; so much has shaped who I have become that it's ridiculous for you to even suggest that I know nothing of rejection."

"I apologise for my bluntness." She whispered.

"Your Firewhiskeys, Sir." The waiter Draco had spoken to said reappearing at their side. Draco gratefully took the cup before handing several bronze knuts over to the man.

"Here you go, Granger." He said handing her a cup. "All is not lost after all. I forgive you. To new beginnings?" He asked holding out his glass.

"To new beginnings." She affirmed, with the clink of her glass against his before quickly pouring the contents of the glass down her throat.

"Practiced I see." Draco noted.

"I suppose you could say that." She replied grabbing his arm once again and leading him away from the bar. "We must go and speak to Ginny and Harry." She hissed urgently.

Draco glanced back across his shoulder, there he could see a ridiculously dress Lavender Brown and Ronald Weasley heading towards the bar. She wore a horrifically short black dress, tragically short perhaps would have been a more accurate description. Ron however seemed to have no qualms about this, he seemed perfectly content with his dates attire. Draco could see now why she had been so eager to move away from the bar area, in fact, Draco was not in the mood for an awkward evening. It had been awkward enough already, however it was shaping up to be even more exciting than he had first predicted. It appeared that there was a lot more than met the eye about Miss Hermione Granger, that much he was certain of.

The room was warm, warm like the scorching summer heat he and Astoria had experienced in Australia. However, this did not bother him, the heat was almost a way of welcoming him to a life he had not expected for many years to come. It was in fact, just as shocking as Astoria's revelation.

He could remember the house they had shared during the final six months of her pregnancy. That beautiful stone house just outside of Melbourne - one of the countries major cities. It was a perfect location to get anything they needed, whether it be food, clothing or any other general item they were just a stones throw away, well within reason of course. The house had been empty for more than thirty years; however the house keeper was also a witch and although there was not a strong magical presence within the country itself there was definitely a sense of community among the folk in the area.

Unlike London there was not an Australia equivalent of Diagon Alley, there was no St. Mungos here either yet despite this, many witches, wizards and their children called this place home. Draco too could have easily called it home; the beauty of the garden that surrounded their home was enough to make anyone wish to stay.

Astoria had a difficult pregnancy, and Draco had to admit the sudden relocation had done nothing for her health. She suffered horrific morning sickness right up until the fourth month, however there was nothing that could be done. His parents had sent them several calming draughts for her yet nothing seemed able to abate the sudden onset of the morning sickness that crippled her daily.

Even worse still were the sudden violent mood swings she experienced, already formidable enough at the best of times these were unparalleled. One moment she would be crying over the smallest thing, quite often the 'appalling' colour of the décor and the next she would be laughing hysterically at one thing or another. At times, Draco doubted her sanity; however it was only to be expected.

Draco had been out within the garden speaking to Gregory Muldsworth, the house keeper - Margery's husband when he first heard the frightened scream. He had rushed inside to find that Astoria's water had broken a whole two weeks earlier than they had been expecting. He immediately sent word to the nearest Healer, a young woman who had recently moved to Australia herself from Scottland, she had a strong accent and was rather pretty herself.

There was something formidable about the way she captivated a room, something that could cause even Draco, who at the best of times had a horrible habit of speaking his mind whenever the compulsion hit to be silenced. April Pecklewhisp was her name, and as it transpired Draco recognised her from her days at Hogwarts, however she had been two years younger than him, also a Ravenclaw. He'd had very little to do with her during their school years, in fact he suspected, she may have once even been a victim of his cruel schoolboy pranks.

However, now here she stood, helping his girlfriend deliver what could very well have been their first child. However, he was unsure whether it would be or whether it wouldn't, yet this did not subside the anxiousness within his chest. This child would always be his, whether or not it was biologically true.

Draco had been the one there when the child was delivered; he had been the one who stood by her throughout the pregnancy. The child was his, there was no denying it. He relished those brief moments of peace, those moments when Astoria would not be screaming at the very top of her lungs for him to be of more help or clawing her manicured nails into his delicate skin. However, at the same time, those moments of peace were the most frightening. Those moments that seemed to stretch on for hours at a time, moments he spent frozen in time.

_Waiting, waiting for_ his_ child to be born._

At last, in the wee hours of the morning, 3.17am to be precise Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was brought into this world. April had first cleaned and weighed him with a few simple flicks of her wand, before finally handing him to Astoria whose eyes filled will tears glancing upon their son.

"Isn't he beautiful?" She whispered to Draco, carefully handing the child to him.

Draco took the child into his hands and glanced down into those bright green eyes.

"Yes he is." He whispered. "He shall be a brilliant man someday."

"I think so too." She replied tiredly, collapsing back onto the mass of pillows beneath her.

Draco carefully handed the small child to April, wondering how it was he was able to live when he was so very small. His small hands and small body seemed so fragile it was difficult to imagine those tiny lungs being able to pump enough oxygen into his body to support it. Yet Draco knew, from that moment which he had stared into the eyes of his son, he knew exactly whether or not the child was his.

He would never say anything to Astoria, because he knew, he knew she too knew the identity of the father. Yet he doubted, very much so that she would ever say that it was anyone other than Draco and for the briefest while, everything in their lives had seemed so perfect. They had a son, they had each other, and they had everything they could ever have needed.

Yet things were bound to come crashing down at some point or another, and that they did.

They had arrived back in London one dreary winters day to the apartment they called their own. Leaving Scorpius with Lucius and Narcissa the pair had ventured back out into society, to show that they had simply gone on an extended holiday. Astoria had lost all of her baby weight, and the tan she sported looked as though she had been lying upon a Caribbean beach for the past five months rather than locked within a house in Australia, racked with horrific morning sickness and unpredictable mood swings. The moment Astoria and Draco stepped into Diagon Alley the press were upon them, several reporters who had so graciously been tipped off that Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass may make an appearance in the renowned street awaited them eagerly.

They were not disappointed. To them everything seemed perfect; the couple simply had taken some time off. Who expected anything else of the pair, both heirs to large fortunes; they could do anything they pleased. However, deep down Draco felt a sense of discontentment. This was not the life he had planned for himself or Astoria, it was a life built solely on the foundation of a lie. These people did not even know Scorpius existed.

Astoria was determined to keep it this way also. Draco had protested and protested. They could not hide the child forever. Yet that was the way she intended it to be. She planned, when the time came for Scorpius to attend Hogwarts they would simply say that they had adopted him, unable to have children of their own following a horrific incident in which both his parents were killed. Draco was disgusted and appalled to see what she had become. She dared suggest that they tell people that their son, her own flesh and blood was not theirs?

It was at that moment Draco had come to realise that he no longer loved her the way he had only months ago. That love had changed, it had become nothing more than a relationship of convenience, and it was convenient for him to remain with her for the time being. She however, was simply using him. Or perhaps using would have been better replaced with abusing. For the first time in his entire working career, Draco was home on time to collect Scorpius from his parent's house before bringing him to the apartment the three shared. However now it seemed more empty and lifeless, with Astoria returning to her old life schedule.

Draco had half a mind to return Scorpius to his parents, leaving a note upon the kitchen counter stating that he was leaving and was never returning, and to walk away. Yet he never did. Or perhaps it was that he never could quite bring himself to do it. Either way, it would confirm what he thought of himself to be, a coward.

He was a coward, that much he was certain of. He was either a coward for not telling Astoria what he already knew to be certain; he had practically confirmed it now. Or he was a coward for walking away. Was there no end to this predicament he found himself in?

The strong smell of Firewhiskey brought him back to the present. There was yet another glass being held out to him, this time by none other than Harry Potter. He accepted the glass graciously, thanking Potter and wishing him a happy new year as was custom. Hermione was already rapidly speaking away to Ginny and Harry collectively.

Draco found himself quietly sipping from his glass, feeling quite the third wheel watching the way they all seemed to speak to one another. Almost as though there would never be room for anyone but Ron in a conversation such as this. Draco carefully set his glass aside glancing out the window. The weather looked positively frightful; rain was bucketing down upon the street outside many Muggles seemed to be dashing for the nearest shelter under the cover of their coats, jackets and brief cases. Not of course a very effective idea, they seemed to be getting utterly soaked all the same, Draco wondered why they even bothered trying. _Muggles…_ He thought, smiling to himself at the simplicity of their lives.

There was the quiet hum of music in the background; some had the audacity to dance to the slow rhythmic music. Draco could not imagine something more ridiculous, it was far too early to have drunk enough to dance to such dreary music. It was more the sort of music one mingled to, the type which you could discuss one thing or another with a complete and utter stranger and never really feel ill at ease.

It was the sort of music that encouraged conversation, of course, not that anyone here would really recognise that, you had to have been too far too many balls and social events to even recognise the threat of such music, one moment you would be idly holding a drink, the next you would be telling your life story from woe to go to an absolute stranger, it was preposterous. Such was the atmosphere of this party, he soon found himself sitting at a table opposite Hermione, who was idly drinking a glass of champagne, talking about one thing or another, he could not exactly keep his mind upon the topic at hand.

"Let us not discuss work, for just an evening?" He asked politely when she had finished speaking,

"That would be welcome," She replied, "it seems as though I do nothing but talk of work, work and more work. Although, I suppose I do not really have all that much more to speak of currently, my life is quite dull."

"I hardly imagine the life of one as talented as you to be dull," He replied, "if anything, I'd imagine it to be more interesting than many lives combined."

"What makes you say that?" She asked,

"Surely you receive invitations to all sorts of events, parties and gatherings, have you ever stopped to consider how many more you receive than most?"

"I suppose not, they nearly all go back with a slip saying I'm too busy to attend." She admitted,

"Well, why don't we go out and have some fun?" He asked,

"Fun?" She questioned, "In what way do you mean?"

"We could hit the town, drink in a pub in Ireland, visit Australia for New Year's Day, or be in Times Square to break in the New Year! We could go anywhere or do anything. The night is young and so are we…"

"Young, I am anything but young, I certainly do not feel youthful." She whispered,

"That's because you carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders, you need to loosen up a little. You know live?"

"I do live, quite comfortably at that." She snapped,

"What you and your cat, home alone at night crying yourself to sleep?"

Tears welled up in her brown eyes, "N…No... Not at all!" She hissed, wiping the tears from her eyes,

He knew he'd hit a nerve, he should have known that she would not easily move forward from the tragedies in her life, she would hang upon them, refusing to let go if she could avoid it. She probably still even had some of Ron's possessions within the house, she probably cried whenever she saw them, he knew, she could not possibly be living a comfortable happy life, by no means.

The state in which she appeared at work each day could be used to gauge that, she looked as though she didn't sleep and the fact that she wore clothes that seemed to suggest she was in mourning did not help her case. Just by saying that, he knew he'd done something wrong, she'd come out to forget what she faced each day of her life and yet here he was dredging it all up in public again.

_What sort of person was he?_ That was right, he remembered, an awful one. He'd never been particularly good to Hermione Granger, if anything he was prepared to admit he attempted to make her life as hellish as possible for the longest time, but he never wished a crippling depression like this upon anyone, no-one deserved this, particularly not her.

"I'm sorry," he replied, "I often forget that it's considered socially unacceptable to pass comment on one's innermost thoughts."

"It's okay," she replied, "it's not like I have a life anyway."

He could barely speak, had she just admitted that he'd summed up her lifestyle in a single sentence? She looked as though once again she'd been pushed to breaking point. He wondered how strong she really was, it was clear she was stronger than the normal person, many would have crumbled beneath the weight of so many heartbreaks, yet she was still here, and she was almost as he remembered her from school, only slightly older looking.

He could not help but notice that she'd caught Ron Weasley's eye he glanced over occasionally, it was clear that there was some obvious jealousy in his eyes, yet at the same time there was almost a resentment within them. Draco felt anger well up within him, Weasley didn't deserve to even look at her after what he'd done, he shouldn't be able to look at her without feeling the guilt he should. It took Draco a while to notice he was walking towards them, however it was difficult to do anything to avoid it now, he could only give them some space, he assumed it would already be uncomfortable without adding his presence into the mix.

"Would you like another drink?" He asked pointing to her empty wine glass,

"That would be lovely," she replied, "a Firewhiskey if you could manage it."

"I thought you'd never ask." He replied with a smile before grabbing the glass and heading into the crowd towards the large bar.

"Ronald, what a pleasant surprise." He heard her stammer, assuming that Weasley had already reached her,

He heard Weasley reply in some form of mumble, unfortunately he could not hear it. He'd never really been one for eavesdropping, however he was willing to make an exception here, he'd made it his business by bringing her here. Her happiness had suddenly become his business, as awkward as that was. He never thought he would admit that Hermione Granger's happiness would ever be a priority of his, but he was willing to bet that this feeling would only increase.

He grabbed the glasses off the bar and paid the bartender before walking back to the table, from a distance he noticed her hands grasping the edge of the table, her knuckles pulled so tightly they had gone white. It was clear even to him that she wanted him to leave, his presences was not wanted at all, and she was simply being polite in refraining from telling him to leave, sometimes she was too well mannered for her own good, he'd already noticed that in the short time he'd actually had a proper, non-work related conversation with her.

"Ronald," Draco said politely placing a hand upon Hermione's taking a seat beside her, "fancy meeting you here."

"I could be saying the same about you." Ron hissed back,

"Oh, come now, what's an old school grudge between a few friends, that's in the past! Let _us_ buy you a drink!" Draco replied, trying particularly hard to get on his nerves, he knew he'd hit a weak spot when he watched Ron flinch at the word 'us',

"Us?" Ron asked swallowing,

"Hasn't Hermione told you?" Draco asked nudging her in the side hoping she would get the message to play along with his little game,

"Told me what?" Ron asked, his face going pale,

"Draco and I are dating." She replied,

Ron's eyes widened, "Really?"

"Didn't you know?" Draco asked,

"No, last I heard you were engaged to Astoria Greengrass," Ron admitted, "and that was today…"

"I have never been engaged to that woman, we had a rather unpleasant break up, she prefers to pretend it never happened."

"I see, how long have you been together?" He asked,

"A few weeks?" Hermione asked turning to Draco her grip on the edge of the table loosening slightly beneath his hand,

"Sounds about right."

"How, _lovely_." Ron replied, this of course, Draco noticed, was not without a forced edge to it,

"It is!" She replied,

"I'm glad you're happy," Ron admitted, however he looked anything but happy, if anything he looked sour, "I'm glad you've moved on. I must be off I'm afraid, Lavender is waiting for me."

"It was nice seeing you again," Hermione whispered, "I'm glad you and Lavender are happy."

"Indeed it was," Draco replied shaking Ron's hand, "happy new year if we don't see you."

"Happy new year…" He mumbled walking off.

Draco turned to Hermione; she didn't look upset, if anything, the large smile that had broken across her face told another story altogether. He had not seen her smile like this in the longest time that evening. She was laughing too, almost as though she'd gained some form of satisfaction from their little lie.

"The look on his face…" she remarked, "was priceless!"

"You'd be surprised; by you admitting your over him to his face will throw him. Everything will change, and chances are, he'll lose grip on what he's doing for a while now. He would never expect you to get over it, he probably expects you to mull over it forever…"

"Really?"

"I prosecute people for a living, Hermione. I know the classic signs of guilt and I also know my fair share about human behaviour."

"It's hard to think of you doing the job you do and somehow remaining sane, the people you must have to deal with…"

"I think of it as a service I'm performing to society, my debt which needs to be repaid for the crimes I've committed."

"That's all in the past; we do not speak of it."

"I know, but it's a more personal matter I suppose one would call it. I cannot forgive myself until everyone else can forgive me."

"There will always be people who hold us accountable for the actions of our past, those actions we cannot be forgiven for unless we can make amends, but those actions cannot be made amends for. Why should we go on trying to be forgiven for something we've done, when we can never satisfy those we have wronged? It seems pointless."

"I cannot make amends for the lives I have taken; I may only go on attempting uselessly to make amends for the crimes I have committed. I don't fancy myself the fool who simply believes all is forgiven by a few simple actions."

Hermione paused momentarily before she spoke, her lips pursed.

"I believe that forgiveness shall come with those who forget the true nature of the crimes we've committed."

Draco felt an unnerving wave of gratefulness wash over him as her words sunk in. There was something so comforting about her and her words were as though she spoke with wisdom well beyond her years. It was with great pain that she had said these words; they were strained and there were tears in her eyes.

"What crime has the great Hermione Granger committed that is beyond forgiveness?"

"I loved a fool." She replied finishing her drink.

"Surely that is not a crime?" Draco asked.

"It's not, but the damage done to relationships as a result of what happened is something I live with every day. Molly refuses to speak to Ronald, that is until he apologises for what he did. I'm the cause of that, and I don't forgiveness is possible for such a thing. Just like I can't be forgiven for the lives I took in the Battle of Hogwarts."

"You took lives that needed to be taken, not the innocent. There's a difference."

"Is there?" She asked. "A life is a life, no matter whether good or evil."

"You of all people believe that?"

"How can I not?" She asked. "I have no reason to believe otherwise."

"You have nothing to fear, if anything I'm the one who should be scared."

"Why?" She asked.

"I killed people for sport, surely that counts against me."

"It doesn't take a genius to see that you're trying to make amends for your past, which counts more than actually making amends itself. You're trying to achieve the near impossible, not everyone will forgive and forget. I've forgiven, I see you every day struggling to forgive yourself more than anyone. That in itself is enough for me."

"Who says I've forgiven myself yet?"

"No-one. You and you alone decide when you're ready to forgive yourself and when you do, tell me, because I sure as hell won't have reached that stage yet."

"I think you've reached it, you just won't let yourself cross that bridge."

"I see the bridge," She whispered. "I'll never cross it."

There was something in the way she spoke, as though her words carried a double meaning. It was more than likely; she'd seen so much in her short time, so much people should never even have to see. There was a quiet pain to the way she spoke as though suffering silently had been her tactic for longer than she could remember and now that had slipped through her fingers.

She did look as though she'd become rattled, that calm collected coolness about her vanished alongside the pride she had held herself with only minutes ago. She had been defeated and she knew it, and the pain in her eyes told Draco that she needed it's stability to keep going. How had her admittance of this changed her so?

_Were just a few simple words really all it took to bring down the infamous Hermione Granger?_

It reminded him of that moment he had first glanced into Scorpius's bright green eyes, and glanced upon those strangely unfamiliar features he knew what those eyes confirmed to him, one thing and one thing only. These were the moments which stopped time, but somehow the world still moved and existed around them.

In the grand scheme of things they did not seem to matter to more than a few people, but inevitably they held the key to so much more, that moment had changed everything, he'd known, from that very moment he would not stay with Scorpius or Astoria, he'd known he'd leave them, cowardly as he knew it to be in his own mind, he knew he could not stay.

The child was not his, as much as he lied to himself; he knew that he could not convince himself of this. That moment, looking into those unfamiliar murky green eyes he'd known that the child could not possibly have been his, his entire family had had blue or silver eyes as far back as he knew, and Astoria, well, her brown eyes were common to her family.

It was clear, that he could not have produced such a child, he'd seen those eyes before, and from that moment his suspicions were confirmed – _The child was not his own._

_And so, the clock struck eight. _


End file.
